winter has me in its grip

i can smell it in the nightmares 

submit to the cold 

i selfishly don't want to look at your pain
want to hide in a blanket fort with my woobie

the blood on your hands reminded me of him
i am a very sheltered and lucky child

they made us walk a mile to bury you
your will said to dig fast
all of your boys put shovel to ground

some children were playing in the mud
throwing rocks on the cardboard casket
utterly unaware of what was happening
they muttered to each other in high-pitched french
so it didn't bother me

they covered your grave with flowers and cow skulls
lined the side with shovels
the other side with your boys
except peter
peter is at the va
where he lives
where he will die

'look lively and i shall too'
were his last words to me
oops.